


Strained Relations

by viceroyvonmutini



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, F/F, this tag makes it sound so unexciting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7202858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceroyvonmutini/pseuds/viceroyvonmutini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Law is about hard work, brutal battles, and compromise. It's also about swanky suits, very nice legs, and the occasional problem client.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tactical Negotiations

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my hard drive for about two years; at least since about season 3 of the show. I began this AU back when I was still studying Law like an idiot. I was never going to publish, or continue writing, this. However, due to a certain gifset making the rounds, I've decided now is the perfect time to give myself more writing. 
> 
> Honestly, this is probably the most use my one year of a Law Degree will ever be. Also I watch Suits. What could possibly go wrong?

The alarm broke the morning silence, phone vibrating in an effort to wake its owner. A hand slammed down on the offending object, body rising as a finger swiped across the screen, ending the noise. Sameen Shaw launched herself out of her white sheets, standing up and stretching. She walked over to a pile of clothes on the floor and pulled off the oversized shirt she was wearing, changing swiftly into her running gear.

Tying her hair up, she left her apartment and out into the cool air, street lamps lighting her way.

 

* * *

 

Samantha Groves slammed her palms against the keyboard in frustration before cancelling her previous input line and shutting her laptop. She placed it down on the floor beside her before checking her phone. 5:32 am. She’d been up for almost 32 hours and still hadn’t managed to write any usable code.

She leant back against the bottom of the couch she was resting against, hung her head back and closed her eyes. She was tired and wanted to sleep, but Jason had convinced her to go to this _stupid_ meeting (she didn’t _do_ meetings, meetings were for those who actually cared) at the godforsaken time of 10am.

She audibly sighed, before laboriously pushing herself up from the floor and padding over to her bedroom, flopping down on the plush bed intent on getting some sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Sameen Shaw returned to her apartment sweaty and out of breathe, her phone showed one missed call from Finch. She rang back immediately.

‘Finch.’

‘Ms. Shaw. I’m sorry to bother you on your day off but you’re needed in the office. The Elias Deal is about to close and we need all hands on deck.’

‘I’ll be there in half an hour.’

‘Thank you Ms. Shaw. Oh, and Mr. Reese asked me to call you in for a meeting with him. 8am?’

‘Finch I don’t do Family you know that.’

‘Nevertheless he was rather insistent.’

‘Not insistent enough to call me himself,’ muttered Shaw.

‘Yes well perhaps if you eased up on the death threats people would be more inclined to contact you themselves with any issues they might have.’

‘It’s all part of my charm Finch. I’ll be in shortly.’

Shaw hung up, chucked her phone onto the bed and stripped for the shower.

Today was going to be a long day. 

 

* * *

 

She made it up to the 36th floor in record time, striding into the main boardroom of Machine & Co. at 6:54am precisely and slamming her files onto the table, silencing the squabbling room.

‘There had better be a very good reason why I got called in at 7am and I better hear it now.’

The room greeted her with silence. Sameen Shaw’s reputation was infamous, and each of the junior associates that filled the room knew it: if not personally, than from the countless who did. She glared at each one individually, suppressing her delight at watching them squirm.

Her eyes rounded on Joss Carter, third year associate and one of the few people she found herself not wanting to violently maim with a coffee cup on a daily basis.

‘Dominic ordered a slight change in terms.’

‘And that caused this disaster zone?’ questioned Shaw, gesturing to scattered files and discarded cartons of food.

‘Elias won’t agree to the change.’

‘What is it?’

‘5% increase in trade revenue and stock shares.’

Shaw spun round and exited the room without a word.

‘Draft the contract with the new terms,’ she called over her shoulder. The associates stared, confused and still slightly relieved that they were still alive. Carter shook her head in exasperation, before ordering the army of workers into action.

On becoming a partner Shaw had expected the numerous benefits (a pay rise) and even the negatives (dealing with moronic associates). What she hadn’t expected was to have to deal with clients such as Elias Clarke, a man she would much rather punch in the face than negotiate a deal for. But business was business, and when Reese moved over to the Family side of things Finch had handed her the file with strict instructions not to fuck this one over: apparently he’d helped the Machine through some hard times.

That didn’t mean Shaw had to like the man as she found him lounging in Reese’s office, presumably chatting about the weather.

She strode in, fixing Elias with a glare. John smirked.

‘I know you just got made partner, but that doesn’t mean you can barge into my office without knocking Shaw,’ remarked John, tone amused.

Shaw fixed her glare on him.

‘I’m not here for you, I’m here for him.’

‘Me?’

‘Elias I’m drafting the contract with the new terms.’

Elias raised an eyebrow.

‘Is it not your job, Ms. Shaw, to work for me and my interests?’

‘Yes. The longer you draw this out the more you’re going to lose and shares in your company are already falling. You need this Elias. 5% is nothing: take the offer.’

‘5% is everything for me Ms. Shaw.’

‘It may well be. But right now it’s your best option before Dominic withdraws his offer entirely. Take the 5%. Get it back later. I hear he’s looking to expand his financial department.’

Elias looked at Reese for confirmation. John gave nothing away.

Finally, Elias nodded.

‘Okay Ms. Shaw: they say you’re the best.’

‘I am.’

‘Then I trust you. Go ahead with the deal.’

Elias stood and nodded farewell to John before shuffling past Shaw to oversea the final arrangements.

‘Well you certainly know how to charm. Do you want to have that meeting now?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘You’re going to want to. There’s a case I need you to take.’

‘Which one?’

‘The Groves one.’

Shaw was going to kill him.

‘No.’

‘Shaw.’

‘No fucking way Reese that thing’s been on your desk in a constant repeating cycle for almost as long as I’ve been here.’

‘2 years actually.’

‘Fine. 2 years. Doesn’t change anything. I’m not touching that thing. Get Carter to do it.’

‘Can’t.’

‘What, your fuck buddy not up to it?’

John ignored the jab. ‘Actually it’s because you were requested.’

‘Then tell them I say no.’

‘Finch insisted.’

‘I don’t care. That thing is sinkhole. A never-ending battle about god knows what because no one even knows anymore.’

‘You get full use of Zoe.’

‘Thrusting your other woman onto me? Is that meant to entice me?’

‘I’ll buy you that gun you wanted.’

‘Warmer.’

‘And let you walk Bear for the next 3 months.’

‘The duration of the case.’

‘Fine. The duration of the case.’

‘He stays at my place.’

‘Fine.’

‘And get Fusco to get me a steak.’

‘Deal.’

‘Give me the file.’

John handed Shaw a thick pile of paper before retreating behind his desk. Shaw ignored the speed with which he had agreed to all her terms, and flicked through the pages and trying not to dwell on the thickness of the file, before turning to leave.

‘The first meeting’s at 10 today,’ said John with a victorious smile.

Shaw grit her teeth and slammed the door behind her, stalking back towards the busy boardroom to close up with Elias.

 

* * *

 

By the time Shaw made it back to her office, Fusco was in the process of delivering her a warm steak for breakfast.

‘Do you know how hard it is to get a steak pre-9am?’

‘Yes. That’s why I got John to get you to get it for me Lionel. Now please leave my personal office.’

Fusco was already halfway out of the door, not wanting to stay longer than necessary. ‘John told me to tell you that the rest of the files for the Groves Cases are set out in Boardroom 2.’

Shaw wasn’t listening, too busy devouring her breakfast steak, but if she had been she might have said something about the plural involved in that sentence.

‘Don’t thank me or anything,’ muttered Fusco as he left the office.

Not two minutes later there was a knock on her door.

‘I’m busy,’ growled Shaw, not bothering to look up from her meal.

‘Ms. Shaw I fail to see how eating can be classified as ‘busy’’ chimed the scolding voice of Harold Finch from her doorway: senior partner, and technically Shaw’s boss. Not that she treated him with any modicum of respect.

‘Finch I’ve had a bad morning. What is it?’

‘Thank you for handling the Elias case.’ Shaw grunted, still largely focused on eating. ‘And I see you took the Groves case.’

Shaw swallowed her mouthful and looked up, fire in her eyes.

‘Yeah John heaped it on me. Why the hell did he move to Family anyway? Idiot.’

‘Because I needed someone to handle more…delicate situations Ms. Shaw: ones you are perhaps less suited for.’

‘Thanks Harold.’

‘Don’t talk it personally, Ms. Shaw.’

‘I’m not.’

After a short awkward pause, Finch watching Shaw shovel in mouthfuls of steak, Finch delicately addressed the issue before him.

‘I’m here to remind you of the importance of this client and-‘

‘I get it. Don’t piss them off, don’t lose my temper, don’t offend them, don’t go behind their back: the usual.’

‘Indeed though I’m afraid Ms. Groves can be quite a…handful.’

‘She never comes to the meetings anyway,’ dismissed Shaw, adamant she would never even see the woman that caused this firm infinite grief.

‘She has her ways Miss Shaw,’ warned Finch, a man speaking from experience. ‘Good luck.’

With that Finch left her alone. Shaw dismissed his melodramatics.

Finishing her steak, Shaw brushed herself off, intent on burying herself in the Groves case files before the meeting.

 

* * *

 

10:43am and still no sign of the client.

Shaw crushed her paper cup in frustration before chucking it in the nearest trashcan. She stood up and headed towards the boardroom exit, intent on using her time more productively, when two figures entered her line of sight as they rushed towards the room.

A man she recognized as Jason Greenfield, PA to CEO Samantha Groves - and the man who seemingly ran the company – was dragging behind him a woman who looked like she wanted to be here even less than Shaw.

Excellent.

‘Sorry we’re late. I understand your time is precious, but she didn’t wake up until about half an hour ago.’ Greenfield gestured despairingly at the woman behind him, who stood gazing at the floor and frowning like a petulant child.

‘Doesn’t matter. You’re footing the bill. Come in.’

Shaw led them into the spacious meeting room, watching as her guests sat down before seating herself at the head of the table.

‘And you are?’

She gestured to the woman who was now directly studying her with roving wide eyes, and who met Shaw’s gaze unflinchingly.

‘That’s Samantha Groves, our CEO,’ supplied Greenfield, clearly confused as to why Shaw would not recognize her own client.

Shaw raised an eyebrow but said nothing, breaking eye contact with Groves and returning her attention to Jason.

‘I’ve read through the case files we have and you have a lot of law suits.’

‘I’m afraid so. Our main rival, Samaritan Technologies has made things…complicated for us.’

‘Complicated seems to be an understatement.’

‘Yes. We’re here to fight off yet ano-‘

‘Aren’t you going to offer us coffee?’ chimed Samantha Groves, feet resting on the table. She leant back in the swivel chair, the back of it giving slightly and allowing her to partially recline as she gazed at her lawyer with what Shaw hoped wasn’t amusement because she had promised Finch she wouldn’t piss off the important clients, and unfortunately Samantha Groves fell into the file marked ‘Important.’ A fact, thought Shaw, crossing and uncrossing her legs underneath the table, which she would never, ever tell this woman.

Shaw focused her glare on the woman, body tense. Samantha Groves met the fierce look with amusement, eyebrow raised expectantly.

Finch said to play nice.

He also said the client was difficult.

‘Of course,’ Shaw plastered on a sickly sweet smile. ‘The coffee is just behind you.’

Groves pouted and Shaw’s face quickly lost its smile, challenging her to move. She did, sighing heavily as she spun around on the swivel chair and Shaw watched as the long, black skinny jeans clad legs of her client took two oversized strides to the small coffee machine in the corner of the room.  Her client proceeded to make said coffee, in an obnoxiously loud manner.

Shaw’s grip clenched on her pen.

‘You want one?’ called the woman lightly, machine whirring away.

‘No, thank you. Ms. Shaw-‘

‘I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to my lawyer.’

‘No.’ Shaw was trying very, very hard to remember those breathing exercises she had tried to forget from that yoga class Carter and Zoe had tricked her into attending with them that one time. In, and out. In, and out.

Her client shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’

‘You were saying, Mr. Greenfield.’

Greenfield sighed, having dealt with such antics far too much for one lifetime.

‘Yes. Well. Samaritan has brought yet another claim against us.’

‘Which is?’

‘He wants to merge,’ declared Groves, standing and sipping her coffee.

‘And this is a problem?’

‘Of course it’s a problem. My algorithm for the Interface is one of the most sought after in the world and, crucially, impossible to discover from outside the company. Greer’s pushing for a merger to get it.’

‘Then say no.’

‘We can’t Ms. Shaw,’ interjected Greenfield, ‘the majority of the board acts in interests of the government, and voted to go ahead with the it.’

‘So what do you need me for?’

‘I need you to make me a case against Greer,’ declared Groves.

‘You want me to…find a case?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re paying me to get you into a long winded legal dispute?’

‘Absolutely.’

Shaw slammed her file shut and stood up.

‘Fine. I’ll see what I can do.’

Greenfield looked astonished. Samantha Groves smirked.

‘Just like that?’ inquired Greenfield.

‘Sure. You want it. As long as I get paid I don’t really care what you want no matter how idiotic I think it is. How long do I have?’

‘Not long.’

‘I’ll see you in the next few days.’

Jason stood up slowly, slightly disbelieving at how easy the whole process had been. Ms. Groves did not look so surprised.

‘Why wait?’ she sung, as she stood up, placing down her coffee and advancing on Shaw. ‘You’re going to need full disclosure.’

‘Ms. Groves…’ warned Jason.

She waved him off flippantly.

‘Tomorrow at a more agreeable time-3pm I think- I’ll come in and help.’

Shaw glared at the cheerful face. Reminded herself of her promise to Finch.

‘Fine. Tomorrow. Don’t be late.’

‘Call me Root,’ called the woman as strode out of the boardroom, winking at Shaw through the glass walls.

Shaw’s fist clenched.

She was going to kill John.

* * *

 

Jason and Root stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby, weaving their way between suited New Yorkers and out into the busy street. Root shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket as the two made their way to wherever it was Root wanted to go.

‘Well that went surprisingly well all things considered,’ remarked Greenfield.

‘What was her name?’

‘Sameen Shaw. One of the top corporate and commercial lawyers in New York; recently promoted to partner. I hired her after you said, and I quote, ‘that big lug couldn’t tell the difference between a contract and a chew toy.’ I believe you were referring to Mr. Reese.’

‘Sameen Shaw.’ Root tried the name on her tongue.

‘Root…’ warned Jason. He knew that tone. That _look_.

‘What?’

‘Just…don’t do anything rash. Or illegal. Again.’

‘It’s only illegal if someone finds out,’ she sung.

‘Root…’ sighed Jason. ‘Just… don’t do something stupid.’

‘Relax I know what I’m doing.’

‘Do you?’

Root grinned.

‘Absolutely not.’


	2. Temporary Suppositions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the updates won't be this speedy: I only had to edit this chapter. However, I will deliver regular updates, it'll just take a little more than a day.
> 
>  The amount of time I spent googling designer suits and office wear was sinful. It's not even relevant.

‘Zoe.’

Shaw was sat at her desk, slightly hunched over and engrossed in whatever it was on her laptop. Zoe Morgan stopped mid-stride and backtracked into Shaw’s office, leaning against the glass doorframe.

‘Shaw. To what do I owe the pleasure?’ She took in the office: Shaw’s shoes kicked to the corner, takeout carton in the trash. ‘Have you been here all night?’

‘What do you have on Samantha Groves?’

‘Samantha Groves? CEO of Tertiary Assets? Developer of their only product, Analogue Interface, the number one facial recognition algorithm on the planet and subsequently purchased by the US government, possibly to spy on its citizens?’

‘Definitely to spy on it’s citizens.’

‘I was trying not to be cynical.’

Shaw grunted in dismissal. ‘Yes, her.’

‘Sorry Shaw: I don’t have much.’

Shaw’s eyes glared up at from behind her laptop screen.

‘You have _nothing_?’

‘She’s a hard woman to trace. Not many know that the woman who walked in yesterday was even her; you included.’

Shaw closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Zoe Morgan was meant to be the best private investigator/fixer/web-spinner in the city. It’s what she was paid for. Shaw was not impressed. Shaw opened her eyes.

‘What _can_ you tell me?’

Zoe took that as an invitation to step into the office, choosing to stand in front of the desk rather than take one of the uncomfortable client chairs nearby.

‘She came out of the blue four years ago with her algorithm and took the first deal that came her way, according to the papers: gave the government exclusive permission to use the algorithm and in the process made a nice amount of cash for herself, and became CEO of an until-then-unheard-of company. That was the last anyone heard of her. Officially.’

‘So she’s a sell out?’

‘Not exactly. The circumstances behind the transaction are…unclear at best. I suspect there’s more to it.’

‘Find out what it was.’

Zoe nodded. ‘Is that all?’

‘And anything else you think might help the case.’ Shaw looked down at the papers on her desk, shuffling them absent-mindedly in thought. ‘Send in Carter.’

Zoe stood up. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but don’t expect much Shaw. The woman’s a tech genius and knows how to protect herself.’

Shaw grunted non-committedly as Zoe walked out. She’d been researching Samantha Groves - Root - all-night and found nothing. The only thing that seemed vaguely promising was a brief mention of a Samantha Groves in a Texan newspaper almost 20 years ago, but that would do nothing to help the task before her.

Shaw groaned in frustration. She’d pulled an all-nighter for this irritating woman and found jack shit: nothing to give her leverage in the case, or over the woman. Part of Shaw was impressed, but she quickly discarded those thoughts because Root’s smug grin was punishment enough and the woman had an ego the size of New York, and Shaw wasn’t about to go and make it bigger.

‘What kind of a name is Root anyway,’ she muttered, slamming her laptop closed.

She stood up and walked to her private bathroom (partner perks), making herself presentable for the day. She changed her creased white shirt for a crisp clean one, tucking it into her black suit pants and pulling it straight. She looked at herself in the mirror above the sink and pulled at her hair, swapping her relaxed low ponytail for a slightly tighter up-do. Freshening up and splashing her face, she returned to her office, looking for her suit jacket.

Carter stood waiting patiently, looking over Shaw’s desk.

‘You wanted to see me?’ she asked, turning her attention to Shaw and standing up straight. She watched as Shaw reached for her $820 jacket, hung over the back of a chair in a small effort to keep it crease-free.

‘About the Groves Case.’ Shaw shimmied into her jacket, straightening it out at the cuffs. ‘You and John did some research into Greer and I need the files. Can you get them for me?’

‘No problem. All nighter?’

Shaw shrugged. ‘Is it obvious?’

‘Your Chanel is creased,’ remarked Carter lightly, evidently teasing.

Shaw scoffed. ‘Armani. Chanel is your thing; I like to avoid looking like a 50 year old working woman.’

Carter laughed. ‘It suits me.’

Shaw wasn’t going to argue with that. She just picked the blackest, fit cut suits she could find.

‘Not going well?’

Shaw padded over to her heeled shoes, kicking them the right way up with her foot. ‘No.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Root.’

Carter still looked suitably puzzled.

‘Groves,’ amended Shaw, but with equal bite. She slid into her shoes, resenting their lack of comfort already. ‘She’s insufferable.’

‘Who?’

‘Root.’

‘She came to a meeting?’

Shaw nodded in affirmation. ‘She’s decided to grace me with her presence this afternoon, too.’

Shaw sounded anything but pleased at the notion.

‘You know how long we tried to get her to come in for us? She only came to one with John and I, and that was the first one. Called John a dog.’

‘I don’t like her.’

‘Looks like you’re stuck with her Shaw.’

‘I didn’t ask for the VIP treatment.’

Carter headed for the exit. ‘Quicker you sort the case the quicker she’ll be out of you hair. I’ll send over the files as soon as I can.’

Shaw didn’t bother replying, slumping down onto her chair with a thud. She let her head fall back, and sighed heavily up at the ceiling.

 

* * *

 

3pm on the dot Root arrived in the designated boardroom with two piping hot black coffees. Shaw didn’t bother acknowledging her presence as Root placed one cup on the desk beside her, before sitting diagonal to Shaw and pulling out her laptop, pushing papers aside to make room for it on the table.

‘Good morning Sameen,’ she chirped. Shaw visibly tensed at the use of her first name.

‘So. What are we doing?’ asked Root, tone anything but business.

‘I need to find out why Samaritan is so interested in your company, and any dirt you might have on Greer, the CEO. I also need anything that could be used against you so I can prep for that. Find something on Greer and we can void his attempt at a merger and settle outside of court.’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘I want his company destroyed.’

Shaw sat back in her chair, considering the demand. It was unorthodox, to say the least. Finch wouldn’t approve.

‘I can do that.’

‘Then we take him to court.’

‘If we find something big enough, you won’t have to. He’ll settle out.’

Root didn’t look happy but said nothing, choosing instead to move on.

‘And these papers?’ The boardroom was scattered with boxes marked with case numbers and spilling files.

‘Everything the firm has on Greer, thanks to you numerous cases.’

Root ignored the jibe, reaching forward to pick up a file.

‘Don’t you computerize?’

‘Call me old fashioned.’

Root raised an eyebrow and Shaw continued to read the file in her hand, irked at the way Root seemed so unconcerned with it all, like it didn’t matter either way what happened to her or her creation. Either that or she was supremely confident when she had no right to be. Shaw couldn’t decide which irritated her more.

Root shook her head. ‘I refuse to believe Harold hasn’t modernized,’ she declared, and with a slightly dramatic flare began typing away at her computer.

Shaw looked up. ‘You’ll never get into our system. Finch designed it.’

Root smirked. ‘I know. Why he went into Law I have no idea: notions of helping the helpless. Justice.’

Shaw wasn’t going to deny she shared the dismissive tone Root took: Finch tended to take the moral high ground in everything he did. Root’s eyes flickered up briefly as Shaw watched her work, and she winked. Or tried to.

‘I can hack anything.’

‘Modest.’

Root’s attention was on her screen as she spoke. ‘Would you prefer it if I was?’

‘Would it make a difference if I did?’ shot back Shaw, and Root chuckled.

‘Nope.’

Shaw’s jaw tightened and she chose to focus on her file, doing her best to ignore the infuriating woman as she flicked her pen between her fingers.

A few minutes passed and Root’s furiously typing became background noise to Shaw. The confident smirk seemed permanently attached to Root’s face as she worked away, and Shaw was almost convinced Root might be able to hack Harold Finch; her eyes drifted as fingers flashed across the keyboard and she thought she might be made to eat her earlier words. She was close to impressed at the thought.

‘He’s made a few alterations since last time,’ muttered Root.

‘Last time?’

Root looked up, mischievous glint in her eye.

‘Did he not tell you? Harry and I have a…unique relationship.’

‘Unique is putting it lightly Ms. Groves.’

Shaw spun round sharply.

‘Finch?’

‘I came to see how you were getting on, Ms. Shaw. I didn’t realize you had…company.’

Root waved from behind her screen; like a child, thought Shaw, playing with toys she should definitely not be playing with. It occurred to Shaw then that maybe allowing Root to hack their secure internal system might not have been the most intelligent thing to do. Shaw scowled.

‘Not by choice. Ro-Ms. Groves offered to give full disclosure. To help with the case.’

‘I see.’

‘Don’t worry Harry, this time I’m here to help.’

Finch shifted slightly. ‘I wasn’t implying th-‘

‘Full disclosure as far as I can,’ sung Root happily. ‘And I promise no malicious malware in your system.’

‘Ms. Groves-‘

‘ _Your_ definition of malicious Harry, not mine. I promise.’

Finch looked as if he wanted to shoot back a retort – put Root in her place, and Shaw wanted him to do it. Root was the definition of a pain in the ass: the personality of a high school jock who by some malevolent accident ended up with the intelligence of the high school genius. But Finch knew how important _Ms. Groves_ was as a client, and wouldn’t let himself jeopardize that. Shaw would talk with him later.

Finch bowed his head slightly.

‘Very well, Ms. Groves. I look forward to this new…partnership. Good luck, Ms. Shaw.’

Shaw watched him leave. ‘Thanks a lot,’ she muttered under her breath. So much for solidarity.

‘So Sameen,’ crooned Root, shuffling in her seat. ‘Partners.’

The way she said it was all wrong. It was like this woman knew exactly what would rub Shaw the wrong way. It was like this woman was completely incapable of uttering anything that wasn’t infuriatingly careless, as she strode around and spread out like she owned the place. Even her hair was careless, swinging around like some silken curtain, and the way she looked all long legs and tight jeans and heeled boots and leather jackets, like she always had somewhere more important to be: could always drop you in a heart beat. Shaw wanted to stab her with a pen.

‘We are not partners.’

Root pouted, but perhaps sensing Shaw about to snap, said nothing.

Shaw was thankful for the silence and finally managed to settle into her work, flicking through the file in front her. One of the first interactions between Root and the firm: a drafting of legal terms for the incoming board members of her newly formed company. Shaw would be the first to admit it made for dull reading.

‘I’m in.’

Shaw shot her a look, eyebrows raised.

‘Lame.’

Root smirked. Shaw returned to her file.

 

* * *

 

‘Next time the meeting starts at 11,’ grumbled Shaw, finally allowing herself to stand up after almost 5 hours bent over the same files. Shaw twisted her neck slightly to try and get the tension out of it.

‘There’s a next time?’

Shaw glared out in front of her but refused to divert her attention to Root. 5 hours with the woman had taught her a little.

‘If you want to win this case, then yes.’ Shaw made sure to get across the fact that she did not look forward to this at all.

‘No need to sound so excited Sameen.’ Shaw stretched out slightly, trying to massage her own shoulders. ‘We’ll have fun.’

‘You call this fun?’

Root leant back in her seat. She was cross-legged in the chair and had been hunched over her laptop almost uninterrupted for the whole 5 hours. Shaw thought it looked uncomfortable.

‘That depends, Sameen. What do you like to do for fun?’

Shaw scoffed. ‘Not this.’

Root watched as she tried to get the knots from her shoulders. It was 8 o’clock in the evening and outside it was pitch black. Shaw wanted to go home and sit down with a beer and a Die Hard film. Instead she was still in the office and they had barely even made a dent in the case files. She was tired. They had been compiling notes – or at least she had – about any possible information that might be used to bring a claim against Samaritan but so far there was nothing.

‘You need a massage, Sameen? I’d be happy to oblige.’

‘No.’ This time Shaw shot a glare as Root seemed to be about to leap out of her chair to rub Shaw’s shoulders, something she would never, ever want from this woman no matter how much she actually really did want some kind of release for the tension in her shoulders.

Shaw let the silence settle as Root, smirking, shifted back into her chair.

‘Why don’t you just hack Greer?’ asked Shaw.

Root tilted her head, fixing Shaw with a look that said _why Sameen, are you asking me to break the law._

‘Why Sameen, are you asking me to break the law?’

Shaw looked away. ‘Thought you probably already had.’

Root laughed. ‘Alright then, yes I have. Broken the law. But I haven’t hacked Greer.’

Shaw turned back to look at her. ‘Why not?’

‘Is it admissible in court?’

‘Doesn’t have to be.’ Root seemed to consider the point, so Shaw continued though she hated repeating herself. ‘Find something big enough and you won’t need to go to court. He doesn’t need to know how we got it; just that we have it and that we can make it look like a legitimate source. I need something Root, and I know you can find it.’

‘What if I can’t?’

Shaw raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re admitting Greer’s security is too much for you.’

‘Absolutely not. I’m just touched at how much faith you have in my abilities Sameen.’

Shaw scowled but ignored her. ‘It would make this go a lot quicker if I had access to Greer’s internal memos, emails, contracts – anything. What does Samaritan have that your board members want so badly to allow this merger to go ahead: motive.’

‘I know why they want the merger,’ dismissed Root, ‘but I still see your point.’ She smiled. ‘My lawyer telling me to break the law: they told me you were the best.’

Shaw fixed her with a stare, giving away nothing.

‘Don’t tell Finch.’

‘I won’t if you won’t.’

Shaw grunted, before moving to clear her things from the table and at least trying to make it seem like there was some order to all these papers.

‘You said you knew why they want the merger.’

Root hummed, standing up and pushing closed her laptop. She tugged on her leather jacket that she had tossed on the floor beside her, before picking up her laptop and heading for the door.

‘Yes, I did,’ she sung as she passed Shaw – far too close for Shaw’s liking, arms just barely brushing and very much in her personal space – ‘didn’t I?’

Root waved at her through the glass walls as she sauntered off without giving Shaw an answer, and leaving her with the mess of coffee cups and papers.


	3. Judicious Evasions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely honoured at all the comments and support for this fic, so thank you all for your enthusiasm it's all very unexpected. Who knew lawyers could be so compelling...or maybe it's just Shaw in a suit. I get that. 
> 
> I am British. I did a year of British Law. Luckily, Wikipedia exists, as does my own limited knowledge of the US Justice System. However, I literally do not understand anything ever, so please feel free to correct me on the criminal justice procedure in the US because your system is so confusing I swear.

If you want to be a good lawyer managing time is key. A lawyer does not have one case at a time – or if they do, it is a rare occurrence – but several at once, plus meetings, gym routines, lunch breaks, social justice causes and the odd pro-bono case to tackle that usually comes from outside the firm and that Sameen Shaw generally only indulged if of a criminal nature. Finch usually adhered to this stipulation.

And so it was that Sameen Shaw was not in the glass-walled, modern offices of the Machine & Co. HQ, but was on her way to the Manhattan District Courthouse (Daniel Patrick Moynihan United States Courthouse; which always struck her as a very longwinded title and definitely pretentious, as if having a license plate with your name on it wasn’t enough for this guy) to handle the preliminary hearing of her pro-bono client.

Usually a lawyer of Sameen Shaw’s caliber would never even dream of touching this sort of case, but Sameen Shaw liked this kind of thing, in a perverse sort of way. Corporate was all about men in suits, divorces, 2743 page contracts, and usually a mistyped regulation: it was paper. There was something about it that was mind-numbingly dissatisfying, like she wasn’t actually doing anything. Not that she didn’t enjoy it to some degree. but compared to some of the men (predominantly men; Root was a rare exception and not the person she wanted to be thinking about on her way to a drug trial) she had to deal with, the criminal guys were like fluffy bears.

She suspected Finch thought she had some greater moral cause she was fighting for in insisting she throw at least 25% of her caseload towards the cause of a public defense attorney. He was wrong. She liked the thrill: the fact that her clients were unpredictable; that she didn’t know whether she would win; the element of thinking on your feet in a courtroom she rarely got to enter in the corporate world. It was unorthodox, but Finch was willing to bend the rules and she wasn’t about to correct him on his misconception.

The Daniel Patrick Moynihan United States Courthouse did not have the Roman column entrance and imposing steps out front like many people expected. In fact, it had this sort of gold plated art deco door that was small and narrow and generally became a huge problem as the end of the day drew near. Shaw cleared a way for herself with a glare powerful enough to part a stream of public defenders and D.As, on a mission to locate her client.

The client was one Jordan Hester; at least, that was the name on her file. Shaw had interviewed the detective on the case and found her real name was Mary (no last name) and she’d been involved in numerous cases like the one she was currently charged with: identity theft with a side of illegal manufacture and selling of ecstasy (§1 CSA 1971). Bit of a no hope case for Shaw considering the irrefutable evidence of her having committed the crime, but it seemed her client was at least of the understanding variety, and was willing to accept any offer that came her way - if any were forth-coming. Shaw doubted there would be, but as this woman’s lawyer she was obligated to beg – yes, beg – bargain and plead for any sort of deal that might lessen this woman’s felony charge. There was no hope in removing ‘felony’ from Hester’s rap sheet, but minimum jail-time might be within Shaw’s power.

Shaw found her client sat on a bench outside the door to the courtroom.

‘You’re late,’ condemned her client, and Shaw tried to temper her glare.

‘I had another case to deal with.’

‘Shouldn’t I be your top priority?’

‘As of now, you are. This is just a preliminary hearing. I’ll say some things, the DA will say some things, and the judge will ask you some questions. You’ll answer, he’ll pretend to deliberate, and the day for trial will be set. Shouldn’t take more than half an hour.’

Hester scoffed. ‘Half an hour to decide my fate. Charming.’

‘Just the preliminary hearing. It’s pretty clear you’re guilty: the trial is where your fate will be decided.’

‘Shouldn’t you believe in my innocence until proven?’

‘Not when your lab was pretty much found with the door unlocked and Jordan Hester stamped all over it.’ The door to Shaw’s right swung open and out stepped the latest new convict, flanked by his attorney and police officer. ‘You’re up. Let’s go.’

Shaw led the way into the courtroom. It was empty except for the judge, prosecutor, and typist sat in the corner, ready to record proceedings for posterity.

‘Your honour,’ began Shaw, settled behind her desk next to her client. She stopped as she heard the door to the courtroom swing open and looked discreetly as possible over her shoulder. The judge looked mildly aggravated at the interruption to proceedings, but as Shaw registered the face of the woman who had entered it occurred to her that maybe it wasn’t so bad to be caught mid-murder in front of a District Court Judge.

‘Continue Ms. Shaw,’ invited the old man, and Shaw closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she began again.

‘Your honour, my client…’

As she spoke, she could feel the eyes on her back. She wouldn’t call them daggers because that’s not what they were. That would imply that the woman who cast them intended to pull the weapon out – to cast her eyes somewhere else, eventually. But these eyes stayed and stayed, like grappling hooks, latched onto Shaw’s back as she gripped the table in a white-knuckle hold in an effort to reign in her need to get Root out of this courtroom. What the hell was she doing here anyway? More importantly, how did she find out where she was? Shaw knew no one in the office would have revealed her location, for fear of the retribution. Not even John would have risked it, and she had enough faith in Finch to know that he would never sell her out to their shared (she assumed) nemesis Root.

She’d had enough of the woman. Three times a week was enough of the woman for Shaw. More than enough. Whole days spent with her combing through case after case and sifting through dull and duller contracts, trying to find something to get on Greer; trying to find the reason why Greer was more attractive to the board than Root seeing as the woman herself seemed reluctant to tell her, brushing off Shaw’s questions with rapid deflections. Shaw would give her that: she was very good at changing the subject. At avoiding what seemed important to Shaw, and making Shaw’s life a living hell.

Despite the overbearing presence of Root the hearing went well, with Hester performing as Shaw expected and the trial set for two months time. In the meantime, Shaw would work on a plea-bargain with the DA and avoid going to court altogether, if Hester was willing to plead guilty. Which she was.

Shaw didn’t bother waiting for her client as she strode out of the courtroom, brushing past Root who was leant against the big double wooden doors, smirking.

‘Sameen.’

Shaw ignored her. It didn’t take long for Root to catch up, falling into stride with her lawyer.

‘How was the trial?’

‘Indictment.’

‘How was the _indictment?’_

‘Fine.’

Shaw had learnt it was simpler to reply to the woman than to question or call her out: the fact that Root was there the whole time did not escape Shaw, but neither did it escape her that if she brought this up, Root would simply hum with pleasure at eliciting a reaction from her lawyer.

‘When’s the trial?’

Shaw’s grip clenched around the case file she was carrying, bending the paper edges slightly. The clip of her heels against the marble floor increased in pace.

‘Root.’

The woman let at an amused smirk play on her face. ‘Would you like to go for dinner, Sameen?’

Shaw kept walking, pushing her way through the art deco doors and out into the busy Manhattan street.

‘No.’

Root, who had somehow managed to keep up through the throng of lawyers and convicts, pouted.

‘Why not?’

‘Because, Root. I’m your lawyer, and we have a job to do.’

Shaw was stood at the edge of the sidewalk, trying to hail a taxi.

‘If you weren’t my lawyer –

‘No.’

Shaw couldn’t quite tell if Root was joking or not. That was the problem. Her tone was playful, teasing and made to irk Shaw just so, but Shaw couldn’t shake the feeling that Root was being serious too. That she was actually being asked out to dinner. On a...in a non-work-related capacity. Not that she would ever accept, least of all from this infuriating woman, but Shaw couldn’t quite figure this out. Figure Root out. When she was being serious and when she wasn’t. When she was being blatantly ignorant of the serious danger her company was in, and when she actually grasped the situation one-hundred percent. Shaw didn’t know where she stood. And she didn’t like the way that felt.

‘I’m hurt.’

‘Good. Stop stalking me.’

‘I wasn’t stalking you.’

‘Tracking me through my phone is stalking.’

‘How did you-‘

‘Only way. And it took you a while to find the correct courtroom – no phones in the courthouse.’

Root looked suitably impressed – shocked even – before slowly allowing a small smile to tug at her lips, one that Shaw felt might have been dangerously genuine.

‘I’m impressed.’

‘Don’t be.’ Shaw managed to get a taxi by the curb, and began to get into it without another word.

Root watched the cab from where she stood long after it disappeared into the midday traffic.

 

* * *

 

Harold Finch was the singular Senior Partner of the firm. This wasn’t always the case. There had once been a man by the name of Nathan Ingram who had founded the firm along with Finch, but that had been before her time; before even John’s time. No one really knew what happened, only that there had been a bombing, and both he and Finch had been caught in the blast. Ingram had lost his life. Finch came out with a bum leg and emotional baggage bigger than most of John’s divorce clients combined.

Shaw didn’t bother waiting in the waiting room. Finch didn’t have a secretary but insisted on dealing with everything himself. This had the duel effect of making him an extremely busy man, and also allowed Shaw to waltz right into his spacious office without anyone stopping her.

‘Finch.’

He looked up from his multi-monitored computer display.

‘Ms. Shaw. Is there a problem?’

‘Yes.’ Shaw traversed the remaining length of the office and sat in one of the client chairs opposite Finch. ‘Root is the problem.’

‘What has she done?’

‘She doesn’t _need_ to do anything Finch,’ grit out Shaw, ‘she just is.’

‘Is just what?’

‘A problem.’ Shaw’s voice was getting dangerously loud, and she struggled to reign her frustration in. ‘I don’t know what I’m meant to do with her. She’s impossible. I have more than her case to deal with and yet I’m devoting at least 82 percent of my time to her alone, most of which ends up being fruitless anyway. I want off this case.’

‘Are you sure this isn’t just because you don’t like her, Ms. Shaw?’

‘You know I don’t like her,’ she growled.

‘Then I can’t permit you to hand the case off.’

‘Why not? You don’t like her.’

‘Yes, but I am courteous, and understand that she is an important asset to the Machine and our continued survival in this economic climate. She requested you personally I believe, Ms. Shaw. As a top law firm it is our duty to give in to the client’s every demand.’

‘Stalking me to district court is not part of that.’

Finch shifted. ‘I admit she is a little…different-‘

‘Creepy.’

‘Do you feel threatened by her, Ms. Shaw?’

‘No.’ That came out a little too quick for her liking. ‘But I have other clients Finch. And how am I meant to fight a case I know nothing about?’

‘Ms. Shaw, you are a capable lawyer. You have shown that on more than enough occasions. If anyone can handle Ms. Groves…’

‘It’s not handling her that I’m worried about,’ muttered Shaw, making to stand up. She tugged at her suit jacket straight as she stood in front of Finch’s desk.

‘Fine. I’ll keep the case. But the next time she pisses me off I’m not being held responsible for what I do.’

‘Ms. Shaw-‘

‘It’s a warning Finch,’ said Shaw, walking out of the office. ‘Consider this a heads up.’

 

* * *

 

‘How’s Bear?’

Shaw smirked into her sizeable sandwich at John’s seemingly innocent question. She was sat in the break-room-slash-kitchen-slash-lunch area as John poured himself a cup of black coffee.

‘Why? You miss him John?’

‘No.’ John came to sit opposite Shaw at the small round table. ‘Just making sure you haven’t killed my dog.’

Shaw raised an eyebrow. ‘Your dog?’

John shrugged slowly, meeting Shaw’s eyes. ‘I brought him in.’

‘The firm’s dog.’

‘Technically that would make him Finch’s dog,’ interjected Carter as she entered the room. She slapped down a thin file in front of Shaw, narrowly missing the mustard and hot sauce stained paper wrapping of her sandwich. ‘Here’s the info you requested: everything John and I found on Greer. Turns out Greer is in the same business as Root.’

‘Yeah well I knew that. Security.’

‘No, I mean in _exactly_ the same business as Root. Turns out Analogue Interface isn’t the only facial recognition algorithm out there. Samaritan has it’s own.’

‘What?’ Shaw began to flick through the slim file.

‘We didn’t find much, but what we did find – with the help of Zoe – suggests that Greer at least has the basis for his own algorithm, one that could rival Analogue Interface and put Groves out of business, at least with the government.’

Shaw slammed the file shut.

‘I’m going to kill her.’

‘What’s the problem?’ asked John.

‘All this was for business. It was for profit. She wants to stop the merger because she loses money and goes out of business. Goodbye Tertiary Assets and hello Samaritan. Fucking idiot.’

Carter shifted. ‘I’m sorry Shaw.’

Shaw stood up. ‘Whatever.’

Carter and John exchanged looks.

‘Is she okay?’ asked Carter tentatively.

‘She’ll get over it. Root’s just given her the runaround.’

Carter nodded. ‘We’ve all been there.’

 

* * *

 

When Root said ‘complete disclosure’ what she meant was ‘complete disclosure of what I decide to disclose.’ This was something Shaw was no longer happy with.

‘Root.’

It didn’t take long to cajole Fusco (Price: a bottle of Shaw’s finest vintage whiskey) into calling CEO Samantha Groves into her office that late afternoon to have a little chat.

‘Sameen,’ drawled Root, spread in one of Shaw’s client chairs altogether too relaxed for Shaw’s liking, particularly when she was in this mood. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘You lied to me.’ The anger was evident in Shaw’s voice, even Root could tell that. Nevertheless, she looked convincingly confused, and so Shaw continued. ‘This was never about a corrupt board forcing your hand. This was about you and your profits.’

‘What?’

‘The algorithm Root,’ growled Shaw, frustrated at Root’s failure to catch up. She couldn’t work out why she was so angry at this whole thing. This usually didn’t bother her, clients lied all the time, but this somehow seemed worse. Implying that what? Root was the victim here, and yet she was just as bad as Greer. There was something about Root that Shaw didn’t want to dislike, that made it seem like here Root was the crown jewel of the Machine and that she fit. But this shattered that: Shaw felt…betrayed. And she shouldn’t. She didn’t like it at all.

Root sat back in the uncomfortable chair. ‘That’s public information Sameen,’ she soothed. ‘I didn’t lie to you.’

‘So what’s the real reason you want Greer destroyed? Profit?’

Root didn’t even crack a smile. ‘No.’

‘Then what?’

‘It’s more complicated than that.’

‘It’s business.’

‘No it’s not. I’m CEO only in name Sameen. I get a CEO salary. It’s a payoff from the board – the government on the board. The United States Government is paying me off to not interfere. To let them do what they want.’ Root shifted forward. ‘This is bigger than you Shaw. This is bigger than me, and bigger than the company. It involves everyone.’

Shaw digested the information, sat perfectly still. Root continued.

‘I took the deal, the original deal, because it was my only option to make sure-‘ Root stopped then, as if weighing her words: how to phrase what came next. She didn’t continue.

‘To make sure what?’

Root sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter. This isn’t for profit Sameen. It’s bigger than that.’

‘What happened in that original deal Root? I need to know.’

Root studied Shaw, and for the first time Shaw felt the need to squirm under the scrutiny. It unnerved her.

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Root,’ warned Shaw, patience wearing thin.

Root made to stand. ‘I know I said full disclosure…’ she trailed off.

‘For fuck’s sake Root. How the fuck am I meant to do my job if you won’t tell me what I’m meant to be doing?’

Root hung back from the door out of Shaw’s office. She cast a look over her shoulder and Shaw could see the smirk. A challenge.

‘I trust you can handle yourself Sameen. You’ll figure it out.’

Shaw grit her teeth, watching as Root sauntered out of the place like she owned it. Shaw studied the file Carter had given her, before closing it up and chucking it violently over to the corner where it landed with a thud on the floor, a few pages sliding out of place.

Shaw wasn’t satisfied at all. She had zero answers, zero plan of attack, and zero way of winning this case. Not that she even had a case to fight in the first place: her job was to find a case, but how was she meant to find a case when she didn’t even know the basis for a case? She barely even knew her own client. Root remained frustrating and elusive. Frustratingly elusive. Not to mention the world’s most useless client. Shaw had represented low-level drug dealers with more usefulness than Samantha Groves, CEO and tech-genius. Usefulness in the sense that they wanted to help themselves; Root just seemed to want to remain as obnoxious and as difficult as possible. Maybe Root thought she could flirt her way out of this. Shaw almost smiled. Root had about as much game as a pre-pubescent high-school kid. Not that Shaw had ever thought, or cared about, how much game Root had.

Shaw tipped her head back and stared at her blank white ceiling, the setting sun casting an orange hue over the place and reminding her of the late hour.

Bear would need to be fed soon, she thought.


End file.
